


He's Not a Sentimentalist

by Skyuni123



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Death, Gen, Letters, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-20 05:43:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4775798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyuni123/pseuds/Skyuni123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perhaps it's just the dying thing, but he wants to make amends.<br/>Perhaps he is a sentimentalist at heart after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not entirely sure what this is to be completely honest.

Q is not a sentimentalist. He never has been.  
But when he’s sitting, slowly breathing in the poison that will be his eventual downfall, he feels like he could perhaps try to be one. 

Perhaps just for the sake of anyone who finds his body.

He didn’t mean to get caught. It was just a ‘simple cleanup operation’ gone horribly wrong. One moment he was opening doors for Bond behind his computer, the next he was in this room with a death sentence hanging over his head. He doesn’t know why. He doesn’t understand why. All he understands is that he is going to die. 

He doesn’t want to die. Whilst the blissful oblivion might be a taste of heaven to some, he prefers a keyboard under his hands and a sarcastic agent in his ear, firmly flesh and blood.

They’ve left him his laptop. He doesn’t know why. He can’t hack his way out of this - no point even trying. It’s as though they’re mocking him.

He slowly clicks his way through to a text document. Slowly, because at this point his mental capacity is somewhat reduced. Can’t imagine why.  
He supposes he should write a note. What do people write when they’re about to die? It’s not as though he’s scared - if anything, it’s basically just an inconvenience, but it’s an annoying inconvenience. 

_Deer MI6_ , he writes, innumerably slowly, and immediately erases it. The typo is frustrating and as is the rest of the sentence. What do sentimentalists write?

 

 _Dear Bond._  
There. Sentimental. Suppose writing a death note to someone he’s had a bad crush on for nearly three years is sentimental enough. It could also say something about his psyche, but he's not going to be alive long enough to care.

 _I’d really appreciate_ (and lord knows how long it took him to spell appreciate correctly) _it if someone took care of my cat. She deserves better._

_Like it too if you did something good with my belongings like for charity or something. Someone else needs them._

Something compels him to write more. Although he’s completely outlined his wishes - he’s a simple man - something wants him to write more.  
He breathes in deep and the room swims around him. Not long now. Not long at all.

_Guess that I’m done now. Bit sad n all._

He’s hollow. Just hollow. 

_Hated you, Bond, when we first met. You’re brilliant and hot n all n it was a shock and tbh i was a bit jealous. Plus you’re cocky and it was irritating. Too good for the agency. Too good to be real.  
But after three years were good now. Wish I had told you. _

Amongst his blurring vision, the words come faster and faster. It’s like he’s turned on a tap that he can’t turn off no matter how hard he tries. He’s not sentimental, he’s never sentimental. Feelings hurt. Feelings are too complicated.  
Why is he feeling so much now? Why does it hurt now? 

_Ur a cocky little shit and two frustr8tng 4 words bt i like u. like u a lot and i wish i cld tell u in real life insted of a bldy awfl spelld msg. uve mde my life good ltely and i wish i cld say this to u in person._

He sways and his head spins, vision completely going for a second before it comes back, albeit slowly. He grips the edge of the table, world closing in around him for a second. Why does it hurt? Why does it hurt? Why does he hurt?

He doesn’t realise he’s crying until his tears splash against the edge of the trackpad.

_i guess i love u. i dont know why or how or nything bt its true nd i wish i could tell you in life rther thn in a shitty note that ull see after.. im dead._

He can’t breathe. Why can’t he breathe? He draws in a breath, tries to make it count, tries to make it last, but he’s slipping, falling down an abyss that has no way back up.  
His vision twists and he loses focus. He has one thing left to say.

_thnk u_

It’s not enough, it’s never enough, but he’s sliding down onto the table and in the distance he hears someone shouting and a door opening and he doesn’t know how he manages but he knocks the lid of the laptop shut to lock it as he just....fades away...


	2. 2.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thrilling conclusion.

A week later, he’s cleaning the trigger mechanism of a gun he is working on with a soft cloth as Bond languishes on a table opposite him. 

He’s playing with something that hopefully doesn’t belong in Q’s lab because he knows he’d never get it back unbroken.

“Hey, Q?” Bond asks, still twisting whatever the thing is in his fingers.

“Yes?” Q answers, still not looking up. He has more important things to do than make eye contact.

“You know when you were trapped in that room…”

“That time when I nearly died hasn’t yet slipped my mind, 007.” Q says dryly, replacing the mechanism in the gun laid out in pieces on his desk.

“What were you writing when I saved you?”

 

Q’s heart gives a very audible thud. He carefully places the piece of the gun back onto the desk, making sure that his hands aren’t shaking too much.  
“Nothing.” He lies, “The next chapter of my best selling novel. I had to kill time waiting for you fools to save me.”  
And perhaps it’s a huge, rather embarrassing, lie.  
But perhaps he’s not quite ready for the alternative the truth could bring.

“Are you quite sure about that?” Bond is softer, and suddenly unbelievably close.

He forces himself not to step away, “Quite sure.” 

“Because Q Branch was authorised to check through your gear when you were unconscious. To see if you’d discovered anything that we urgently needed to know. They found something…” Bond stifles a sigh, runs a hand through his hair and looks almost apologetic.

What?

“They had no right.” Q hisses, through clenched teeth, suddenly unbelievably angry. He can’t believe it. His laptop is his property and he was sure that he’d locked it. They shouldn’t have been able to get in…

“They had all the right, you signed a waver when you joined MI6.” Bond points out, still looking apologetic. “I didn’t - it wasn’t me -”

“Yeah, but you obviously found out, didn’t you?” Q is furious, heart pounding hot and loud in his ears. “I’m not a fucking enigma.” His secrets weren’t MI6’s to spread about to anyone who was listening. 

“I know, I-”

“Should I fill the paperwork out now to get you reassigned to another member of the Branch or would you rather do it?” He’s pissed. He turns away from the older agent and picks up the pieces of the gun, trying to hide the fact that he’s shaking. This isn’t fucking fair. He didn’t think he’d survive and have to deal with the repercussions that his sentimental mind had caused. He doesn’t want Bond reassigned, but he doesn’t want his pity. 

“I don’t want to be reassigned.” 

“Well, I’m going to have to leave then because this is obviously not going to work.”

There is silence for a moment.

Q fits together two pieces of the gun and screws them together, fingers fumbling more than once on the screw. He wants to disappear. His secrets, thrown right out into the open are more than he can bare. “I’m fucking sorry I’m attracted to you or whatever,” He rambles, something like a dose of regret crossed with anger pushing the words from his lips, “It’s just cause you’re so fucking irresistible or whatever.” 

“If it’s all the same to you, I don't want you to leave. And I... feel the same way."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


End file.
